


Clothes Off for the Revolution!

by Vegan_Venom



Category: Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Based on discussions in the Les Mis group watch, Canon Era, Les Miserables 25th Anniversary Concert, M/M, Not quite crack but this is not supposed to be serious at all, Ramin!Enjolras does not know how clothes work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 03:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10711662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vegan_Venom/pseuds/Vegan_Venom
Summary: Les Amis de l'ABC are very worried by Enjolras' apparent inability to keep his clothes on, and decide to do something about it.





	Clothes Off for the Revolution!

**Author's Note:**

> See [this post](https://veganvenom.tumblr.com/post/159903624156/states-of-undress-in-the-les-mis-25th-anniversary) on my tumblr for visual context.

“That’s quite a cravat you have there,” Feuilly exclaimed, eyeing the flamboyant tangle of rose silk cloth dubiously.

“Why, thank you,” Courfeyrac replied, adjusting the cravat in question. “Only the finest silk of course. I purchased it from Frasseau’s, to match this new waistcoat. You should pay him a visit, my friend. The ladies really do notice when one puts an effort into one’s appearance.”

Thankfully, Feuilly was saved from answering by Enjolras entering the café. All eyes were drawn to him wherever he went, but on this occasion his friends’ gazes had good reason to stick there. 

Enjolras looked as though he had taken only half a minute to dress himself, being without a coat, shirt completely unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to his elbows, waistcoat open and cravat hanging loosely around his neck with a knot tied almost at the bottom. Before any of his worried comrades could ask whether he had been accosted on his journey, Enjolras smiled widely and slung an arm around the shoulders of Grantaire, who had been busy searching for the bottom of his bottle of wine.

“R, my good friend,” Enjolras greeted him. “How have you been? Please do not tell me that this is any more than your first bottle today!”

As Enjolras and Grantaire chatted amiably, good-naturedly teasing one another, their friends relaxed somewhat, though they remained confused. In almost no time, all were huddled together in small groups, whispering about Enjolras’ state of dress.

“Do you think it means anything that those two are both so dishevelled?” Joly asked.

“I think you are letting your imagination run away with you,” Bossuet replied, amused. “R is always rumpled like this. And besides, he would be gloating from the rooftops if there were anything more there.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Joly said sceptically. “But then why is Enjolras barely dressed? Do you think he’s ill? Oh! I can think of several maladies which-“

By the main door, Jean Prouvaire gently grabbed the arm of Combeferre, who was attempting to enter the room without being noticed. 

“Combeferre,” Prouvaire whispered kindly. “I know we are all busy men with little time to ourselves, but it is polite to make sure one’s lover is properly dressed again before allowing them to venture outside.”

Combeferre flushed. “I am quite sure I do not know what you mean.”

“My friend, you are hardly discreet. Why, your terrible waistcoat does not even begin to match that ugly shirt. What fate did the ones you habitually wear suffer, I wonder?”

 

Some time later, as the members of Les Amis de l’ABC were building their barricade, Courfeyrac glanced over at Enjolras, who looked imperious in his red vest but still just as tousled as before. Courfeyrac worried at his lip with his teeth as Enjolras returned indoors, presumably in search of more furniture.

“It doesn’t seem right,” he remarked loudly, “that Enjolras should do battle dressed as he is. If he were to die, one would not guess that he had been a gentleman.”

“Must we be gentlemen?” Feuilly asked. “Today we are citizens, comrades, brothers. Not bourgeois dandies.”

Courfeyrac opened his mouth ready to defend himself, but was interrupted by Grantaire, who was awake and wandering around offering constructive criticism. 

“A shame indeed,” he laughed, “that I am the only friend who would sacrifice his propriety so that Enjolras need not be alone in his state of dishabille. They will bury us together, I think, for naturally they will conclude that we are a matching pair.”

“As though your clothes are not stained and hanging off you every day,” Bossuet teased. “In any case, you are not the only two; look at me, if you will. My luck caused me to trip over some loose paving stones on the way here, and my attire is hardly in its most cared-for state.”

Grantaire grumbled under his breath, then turned and stumbled over to sit down in a heap and finish his wine.

“I will not stand for this,” Courfeyrac exclaimed fervently. “Citizens, will we allow these three to be the only ones among us to go into battle as men, whilst we stroll around buttoned up like aristocrats? No!” he cried, tearing at the fastenings of his waistcoat. “Revolution is of greater importance, even, than my newest silk cravat, as fashionable as it undeniably is.” 

Feuilly copied him, shrugging his coat off broad shoulders. “I stand in solidarity with Enjolras, and all of you, my comrades.”

“If we must lie in the bed we have made tonight,” Prouvaire commented, fiddling with the buttons of his waistcoat, “then we should be dressed for it. Or undressed, rather. It is a pleasure to venture into the blackness of this starry night with you all, my friends.”

“Indeed,” Joly agreed, smiling, as he removed his cravat entirely. Then, in an undertone to Bossuet, he whispered, “I could never quite get on with these things anyway. I always had a suspicion that they restrict the natural flow of blood to one’s head.”

“I’ll disrobe with you!” Marius cried, flinging his cravat to the ground and fumbling with his waistcoat buttons.

“Do I hear a bee buzzing, somewhere?” Courfeyrac queried. “Where is Combeferre? Perhaps he will be able to identify it.”

At just that moment, Combeferre exited the building, walking over to the group with his unfashionable waistcoat gaping open and his hair and cravat in disarray.

“The man himself!” Courfeyrac boomed. “You heard us, then, and have joined in our shedding of bourgeois uniforms in common with our chief, ready for the revolution!”

“I… yes,” Combeferre hedged, glancing around at his clumsily dressed friends and then fixing Prouvaire with a brief warning look. “You know there is nothing I would not do for the cause of freedom.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to be funny - please don't kill me :') I just found the 25th Anniversary Concert to be very amusing.
> 
> Enjolras is allergic to clothes, E and R are best friends who hug a lot, and Marius is a bee (listen to him singing if you don't know what I mean).


End file.
